


Promise To Treasure Me

by sexystylinson



Series: Promise [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bottom Louis, Dominant Harry, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Powerbottom Louis, Sassy Louis, Top Harry, True Love, University Student Harry, University Student Louis, rugby player harry, rugbyplayer harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-26 04:10:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20736029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sexystylinson/pseuds/sexystylinson
Summary: written by SS98“Leave me the Hell alone, Harry.” Louis grumbled; nobody needed a seer to sense hisirritation. The boy had just gotten home from a poorly scheduled lecture on campus, tofind his best friend’s brother also in the elevator.Unfortunately for him, Harry is miles of persistence stuffed into a six foot three tattooedbody that was the face of their university’s rugby team. Everyone loved him for his abilityto dominate a game as the captain, and the dean thought Harry’s four year degree wouldnot be enough. Harry is also the older brother to the only friend Louis had through highschool, Gemma, which meant his shared apartment had to be opened up to this ghastlycharacter as well.“You do not get to insult me publicly and walk off.” Harry all but growled when he triedcornering Louis against the refrigerator.all credit goes to SS98 as she is the original writer. yes i am allowed to re upload this





	Promise To Treasure Me

**Author's Note:**

> SS98 is the original writer of this fanfic i didnt even write a single word.

“Leave me the Hell alone, Harry.” Louis grumbled; nobody needed a seer to sense his irritation.  
The boy had just gotten home from a poorly scheduled lecture on campus, to find his best friend’s  
brother also in the elevator.

Unfortunately for him, Harry is miles of persistence stuffed into a six foot three tattooed body that  
was the face of their university’s rugby team. Everyone loved him for his ability to dominate a  
game as the captain, and the dean thought Harry’s four year degree would not be enough. Harry is  
also the older brother to the only friend Louis had through high school, Gemma, which meant his  
shared apartment had to be opened up to this ghastly character as well.

“You do not get to insult me publicly and walk off.” Harry all but growled when he tried  
cornering Louis against the refrigerator.

His victim turned around and glared at the towering man obstructing his escape. “I did not insult  
you.”

Harry stopped the boy from hitting him in the chest by grabbing Louis’ wrist and holding onto the  
resistant other. “Muttering prick under your breath in a lift with three other people before running  
out is disrespectful, kitten.”

“I’m not sorry.” Louis twisted his arm free and gracelessly shouldered his way free. “Don’t call  
me kitten.”

“I don’t think so.” Harry allowed Louis momentary freedom before he turned around and hauled  
the boy off the ground to throw over his shoulder. “Go easy on me for once up- Ow fuck.”  
Louis would be a disgrace to his childhood reputation if he granted Harry that wish. He shouted  
and squirmed whilst tugging on the lumbering male’s hair with a punishing grip. “Stop touching  
me, you ape.”

Harry strode through the short corridor of the flat to Louis’ bedroom where he pushed open the  
door whilst still harbouring the world’s most restless boy. “You gonna fuck yourself tonight  
then?”

The word ‘dating’ disgusted Louis and he never refrained from lecturing someone who made the  
mistake of labelling him and Harry as such. Neither of them were pre-pubescent teenagers seeking  
social validation by means of being attached at the hip while others gawked or nodded  
approvingly. Oh, you and Styles are dating? Didn’t know you were seeing anybody. Harry’s seen  
Louis go at one too many people before he stepped in and carried a drunken Louis away to  
anywhere without strangers.

They were not dating to anyone who risked their lives by asking, but there was an unspoken  
commitment nonetheless.

“Yes.” Louis tried to knee Harry in the face but he didn’t really stand a chance when the man  
caught his thighs and dumped him onto the bed. He rolled onto his front and kicked off his shoes  
while Harry sat on the edge of it. “You’re taking me to that concert Gems was talking about, by  
the way.”

“It would be my pleasure.” Harry mused, shamelessly smacking the curve of Louis’ behind as he  
laid down. “When is it?”

Louis did get a kick in then. “What do you mean? It’s tonight.”

“Fuck, kitten.” Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, letting his eyelids close on their own accord.  
“I’m exhausted.”

“So?” Louis was yawning too. “I told you about the concert two weeks ago.”  
Harry turned to look Louis in the eye when he displayed his exasperation. “You did not.”  
“Did to.” Louis isn’t sure half the time why he’s arguing, just that he is. He hears the frontdoor  
unlock to signal Gemma’s return and shouts for her even with Harry’s ear two inches from his  
lips. “Gemma!”

“What?” The third occupant of the apartment was working the afternoon shift at the same bar and  
grill Louis’ employed at.

She stands in the doorway with one hand clutching the doorknob and the other covering her eyes;  
she won’t be taking any chances after the numerous times she’s walked in on their scandalous  
affairs.

“Hey Gemma.” Harry greets his sister with a short three-finger wave.  
“Big brother.” Gemma would be scowling whether it’s visible or not behind her palm.  
Harry barely notices when Louis starts pointlessly nibbling on his earlobe anymore, but he always  
comes to recognise it somehow. “How was work?”

“Same as always.” Gemma sagged against the doorway in the waitress uniform and shrugged.  
“Jeff was tending the bar so that was fun.”

“I volunteered to pay him a visit for you.” Harry possesses his fair share of protectiveness over a  
few people in his life, but he tried not to be overbearing. He taught Gemma to defend herself in his  
early boxing days and he trusted that she could handle herself.

“Thanks but I’ve got it.” Gemma assured. “Why am I here?”

“Kitten.” Harry patted Louis’ hip where the boy had probably fallen asleep. “Why did you call  
Gemma?”

Louis proved him wrong by slapping the man’s arm away from his lower hips but winding the  
limb around his waist before Harry could withdraw. He wanted to be held, just not anywhere near  
his bottom right now. There’s enough courage left in Louis to admit he’s frequently puzzled by  
Harry’s willingness to observe and learn his habits rather than abandon him like his two other  
boyfriends had.

“When did I tell Harry about the concert?” Louis asked boldly, tracing the little serpent tattoo  
under Harry’s sharp jawline.  
Gemma had lowered her hand by then. “Tonight’s one?”  
“Yeah.”

“Don’t know. You coming, Haz?” She asked from further away now, sounding as though she’d  
gone into her bedroom with the door open.

Her brother was going to deny it and maybe earn himself a nap before tomorrow morning when  
he’s supposed to meet their coach on the field at seven. Harry prides himself in not being easily  
persuaded, but he also never had a minx like Louis climb onto his lap and roll his hips temptingly.  
“Next time, Lou.” Harry was only ever truly tired when he said no to Louis twice, and the latter  
understood that.

“Okay.” Louis pulled Harry upright by the cross pendant of his chain and connected their lips  
blindly, winding his arms around the man’s shoulders so he could lean forward. “You have to take  
care of me in the shower though.”

Harry groaned at that. He loved wet Louis and naked Louis; combining those two images made  
for a fantasy he was powerless against. With sure hands he cupped Louis’ bottom and stood with  
the boy clinging to his torso. Louis let Harry lick into his mouth to deepen their kiss and carry him  
into the adjoining bathroom where he might be able to relieve himself of some clothing.  
“Lou, kitten.” Harry often worked slower than Louis appreciated but today he was as desperate to  
feel the boy’s skin, have their bodies irrevocably wrapped around one another. “You have to  
cooperate with me here.”

Louis surprises him by wordlessly acquiescing, and stripping off his shirt so Harry’s lips might  
hover to a lower point. He had sensitive nipples that Harry loved paying attention to; they were  
triggers to Louis’ climax or a medium of absolute irritation. Harry would sometimes wake Louis  
up just latching his mouth onto one of the dusty pink nubs, teasing and mistreating until the owner  
bothered to stir.

Harry is well licensed in the department of caring for Louis; he needs to encouragement to pin the  
boy against the tiled wall in the shower and first have his way with him. Louis is probably the  
loudest, most pragmatic person Harry’s ever going to meet but in private he never failed to  
astonish the man with how pliant he can be.

Breathy whimpers fell from Louis’ cherry pink lips until Harry smothered them in a kiss which left  
Louis clawing at his back for air at times. Harry would smirk at the lovely moans he gets to hear  
when buried deep in the confines of Louis’ warmth, pausing ever so often to absorb the pleas that  
lace Louis’ choked little whines. It sounded as though he was about to beg each time just to have  
Harry pound home inside him but never uttered a word because he trusted Harry to not pain him  
with anticipation.

“Hey.” Harry nudged Louis’ cheek with the tip of his nose, leaning forward slightly so the boy  
jerked and gasped. He was undoubtedly still sensitive. “You with me, kitten?”  
“Yeah.” Louis crossed his ankles at Harry’s back and arched his back in a stretch. He blinked  
away the water that clumped his eyelashes and grinned. “Thanks for that.”

Harry chuckled against Louis’ throat, still fighting to regain some of his steadiness. “Sure thing.”  
Louis sunk into Harry’s arms, giving his entire weight to the man’s current poor balance. “When  
can I call you a taxi?”

“Sorry, kitten.” Harry spoke against the red bruise on Louis’ skin that’s going to earn him a slap at  
one point. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His companion gasped, all sixties theatrics and feigned panic. “What will my husband say?”  
Harry scoffed condescendingly at the game Louis posed; he straightened his spine and was careful  
of pulling free from Louis’ body. He challenged himself not to look down between them where  
the boy had to be leaking all over his thighs. “The bastard can try taking you from me. He won’t  
be succeeding.”

Louis’ eyes gleamed with mischief. “Remember that time you beat up Tommy from Econ for  
me?”

For what it’s worth, Harry is not a violent person. He plays a bloody sport where there are often  
broken bones and ruptured ligaments, but off the field he tries to not let his temper get the best of  
him. There is one time he failed in that mission, when foolish Tommy stood in the same circle as  
Harry and spoke disgusting lies about Louis.

“When will you stop bringing that up?” Harry is not ashamed of his motivation behind almost  
sending Tommy to the hospital, just that he’d broken his silent promise as an advocate of word  
over bloodshed.

“You were defending my honour.” Louis reminded him. “If you ever feel guilty, just remember  
that you took me to prom twice and that got you laid just as many times.”  
Being in different years allowed them that extravagance, and Harry hasn’t doubted that it’s going  
to remain a proud memory of his. Louis had demanded a corsage the first year, before making  
Harry use it in the next. Harry could never decide which year was the best.

“I do prefer when you had to ask me.” He admits to his companion with a bemused smirk. “You  
walked into my house with a rose you stole from your mother’s garden and told if I didn’t say yes  
you’d post our sex-tape online.”

Louis smiled fondly at the memory. “We didn’t even have a sex-tape.”  
“I knew that but who else would have taken you?” Harry challenged, already at work with  
shampooing Louis’ hair. “You had instilled fear in everyone at our school.”  
“You considered turning me down?” Louis has never looked so outraged and harmless  
simultaneously as an effect of the foam swathing his head. “You really are a jerk.”  
“No, my kitten.” Harry directed Louis to stand underneath the shower’ spray. “I’d never say no to  
you.”

Louis laughed, bright-eyed and fidgety where Harry held him secured. “You just said no to me  
twenty minutes ago.”

Harry groaned in mild frustration. “You know that’s not what I meant.”  
“Sure.” Louis offered him a sobered smile and wink. “Can I come to your game on Friday?”  
It was a no brainer for Harry. “Absolutely not.”

Louis punched Harry’s left pectoral with a closed fist, hating that his vengeance wasn’t enough to  
do more than amuse the man. “Why the Hell not?”

“Kitten.” Harry grabbed the body gel from behind Louis and stole a kiss from the angered boy. “If  
you promise not to yell at our coach for pulling me out or make pink posters, then sure.”  
“We lost the game he pulled you out of.” Louis pointed out fairly. They’d had a temporary coach  
from another state that week and he was a monster of a man with no compassion. “Pink is my  
favourite colour, mind you.”

“It isn’t.” Harry sighed. “I would love to have my boy at my games, you know.”  
“Maybe you should ask him then.” Louis rolled his eyes, ending in a shriek of laughter when  
Harry sweeps his feet off the floor with frightful agility. “Fine. I won’t yell at anyone but you  
can’t stop my posters.”

“Fair enough.” Harry agreed, locking his pinkie finger with Louis’ when it is offered. “Let’s finish  
up here before we turn into prunes.”

* * * * *

Louis’ been at work from four o’clock in the afternoon and just received a phonecall from Gemma  
asking him to cover her tables until she got in. That left him and another waitress, Angie, to handle  
thirty-five tables with equally demanding and impatient out-of-towners. Sometimes Louis wished  
this establishment wasn’t so renowned for its barbequed ribs and spicy onion rings, but then he  
remembered that he had bills to pay and not enough privilege to be picky.

“Where are my fries, Tony?” Louis stopped by the cook’s window with a new order. “I need one  
of your special fry-up’s and chicken-fried steak with a side of potato wedges.”  
Tony is their Cajun culinary expert who brought Jef erson’s B&G out of the gutter six years ago.  
He loves to pearl necklaces and fishnets, which were complemented by Tony’s inability to handle  
ill-mannered people.

“Your fries, sugar.” Tony slid a basket of crisp chips across to Louis with a smaller bowl of ranch  
dressing.

Louis put the order on his tray and spun around with practised precision that he’s mastered after a  
year of working here. He swung by Jim’s post at the bar for a pint of beer that table number four  
requested. People waited at the door awkwardly to be seated and Louis suspected they weren’t  
local just by that; everyone knew that this place was the least formal.

“Find a seat anywhere.” He told them with a welcoming smile while unloading his tray at the  
necessary table.

The noise created as a result of a capacity number of patrons helped keep Louis on the ground  
during his working hours. Often he’d drift off when business was slower, but since he started  
taking the dinner shift there was no room for daydreaming. He hated silence and how vulnerable  
he was towards lingering in the cesspit that harboured his thoughts.

Table number six wanted more ketchup and number eighteen asked for a double bacon cheese  
burger with onion rings. Louis ignored the elderly hillbilly whose first time it was here and  
accorded neither him nor Angie any respect, choosing to slam his fist on the table and shout for  
attention. There was much of an existing din so both servers felt no guilt in easily sidestepping  
him.

Louis brought everyone their food and cleared the tables that were abandoned, taking the half empty condiment bottles to the bar where they’d be hidden until he could do closing up at the end  
of the night. He was nudged by Jim when their manager came out to handle the only uncivilised  
customer here tonight; Louis might have watched for longer for a laugh had tables twelve and  
twenty called him aside for separate needs. He had to scribble the latter’s order for a lime  
milkshake and peach iced tea on his arm because he ran out of pages in his notepad. The box of  
stationery was ironically in the kitchen next to the walk-in refrigerator because nobody liked going  
into their manager’s office for any reason. Louis stuffed an extra pen and notepad into the pocket  
of his apron before walking out, balancing two brimming glasses in his hands.

“Lou?” Angie came to him when he was standing beside the cook’s window, red in the face and  
looking anxious. “Can you take table nine for me?”  
“Sure. Why?” Louis rolled his shoulders to ease their stiffness.  
Angie chewed her lip. “They’re college boys.”

“Ah.” Louis laughed under his breath, but he nodded with understanding. “The worst evil.  
You’ve got tables thirteen and thirty from me, yeah?”

“Deal.” Angie’s still in high school and many things scared her about being employed here, the  
customers worst of all. Louis and Gemma often had to swap tables with her to make sure she still  
earned her pay and experience, whilst making things a little easier for her.  
Louis took a swig of the water bottle he’d kept at Jim’s bar for passing opportunities such as these.  
He clicked his pen before rounding the corner and concentrating on finding a clean order sheet in  
his notepad before stopping at table nine.

“Hi, I’m Louis and I’ll be your server tonight.” He glanced up from where he’d scribbled the table  
number on the page corner and found the booth filled with terribly familiar faces. In particular,  
there’s the broad-shouldered rugby captain with his hair in a bun and signature devilish grin. Louis  
glared at him especially before spinning around. “I think I’ll just call the police to handle this.”  
Laughter broke out from the six rugby players committing to Louis’ place of work tonight, but just  
one dares to reach out and drag him back to them. Louis’ glower might have killed Harry if it  
could when he landed on the man’s lap, his legs splayed out in front of him.

“Hey there, kitten.” Harry kisses Louis’ neck with an obnoxiously loud smacking sound. He is all  
about embarrassing Louis in public as revenge for his personal mild humiliations from the boy.  
The others chime in more jovially, chanting variations of Harry’s endearment to Louis. He is  
never one to blush where others can see it so Louis briefly leans into Harry as his greeting. “I’ll  
get the chef to spit in your food if you don’t tone it down, boys. This is where I get paid.”

They apologise after hearing that, holding their hands up in surrender. Harry’s amusement is  
conveyed in the rasp of his laughter, his fingers dancing aimlessly on Louis’ hip. “Your shift is  
almost over, right?”

Louis looked at the time on Harry’s obscenely sized wristwatch. “Yeah. I didn’t even notice.”  
“Louis!” The echo of his employer’s voice made Louis cringe and peek out of the booth at where  
the man stood waiting for him. Earl is all business most of the time but even Angie could see that  
he wasn’t all that threatening presently. “I don’t think I pay you to sit on your boyfriend’s lap. Get  
back to work, son.”

Harry, ever the strapping Spartan, had to stand and apologise after Louis had shuffled out of the  
booth ahead of him. He raised his hand awkwardly and smiled regretfully. “It was my fault, Sir.  
Sorry about that.”

Earl was smiling when he shook his head and stalked off in the direction of his office where he’d  
hole himself up until the next disgruntled customer made a complaint. Louis couldn’t care less  
about the sniggers at table nine when he grabbed the front of Harry’s shirt and yanked him nearer  
for a single chaste kiss.

“Your manners are very sexy, you know.” Louis released Harry’s lapels and licked his lips, less  
seductive and more reminiscent.

“Thanks, baby.” Harry winked suavely at him, flashing Louis his most charming grin. The others  
from his table were waking up, signalling to their captain where they were headed. “Oh yeah.  
We’ll be at the pool tables, okay?”

Louis nodded, ripping the order sheet out of his book. “I’m sending Angie back. Don’t you dare  
let those heathens frighten her, Styles.”

* * * * *

Exams were going to bury Louis alive if he didn’t get on top of his semester modules by this  
weekend, which is why he took the breakfast shifts when Jef erson’s B&G hosted only its few  
regulars. He spent the entirety of Friday between isles fourteen and fifteen in the library where he  
could use the plugpoint for his laptop and spread out his notes on the floor while he revised.  
Harry’s game is scheduled to commence in two hours and Louis had to be done with a fraction of  
the work by then.

Luck was on his side and he managed to complete what was necessary in a little less than the  
anticipated time frame. He packed up when the librarian started telling people they’re closing the  
reserved section, so Louis ran down to the photocopiers and ran out what he needed from the  
textbooks he could not take home. Studying for a degree in pharmacy is much more taxing than he  
was warned.

Campus was mostly vacant in lieu of the impending match. Louis could race through the quad and  
parking lot without bumping into a single wandering student, listening to just his shoes crunching  
gravel until the harsh tower lights sprung to life. The stands are swarming with patriotic college  
students who are up in arms against the visiting team from another state. Louis ignored their  
commotion in his sprint to the benches beside the field, offering the grumpy coach a malevolent  
grin as he dumped his belongings behind his seat.

People were already shouting the songs of their respective colleges, dressed and painted in the  
devoted colours. Louis had one of the jerseys Harry made for him as a ghost member of the team,  
and they all had Styles printed in bold at the back above the captain’s number. He often wore them  
on non-game days just because the fabric was decently insulating and helped in combatting the  
occasionally frigid temperatures.

The match hasn’t begun by the looks of it. Harry has his team in a circle of genetically  
mountainous males, shouting his game plan to be heard above the ruckus of the surrounding  
crowd. Across the field to the right of Louis the opposition was doing the exact same thing except  
their official colours were maroon and black, which seemed also indicative of everyone’s mood.  
Louis frowned quizzically at their stoic coach and very abrasive team spirit; the captain seemed  
fond of grabbing others by the backs of their heads and screaming in their faces. It looked like  
someone was bound to burst a vein from all the pressure they endorsed.

Louis didn’t take to sitting much during Harry’s games as everything was high energy and he  
unknowingly tended to walk off his nervousness when things weren’t looking too great. A month  
ago he ended up gripping the coach’s arm so intensely that the man had to shake him off or risk  
cuts in his skin he did not want to explain to his wife.

Right now, Louis pays attention to everything but nothing in particular. He watches the  
scoreboard be reduced to zero and hears the cheerleaders shaking their ridiculous pom-pom  
instruments. Hooting from the other team drew his eye long enough for him to find a member of  
their team looking his way as well.

They’re tall, probably the tallest visitor on their grounds tonight, and naturally of an olive tan with  
the dark, wavy hair Louis likens to the Moroccan people. He doesn’t know what a Moroccan is  
doing all the way here but he’d like for whoever that stranger is, to stop staring at him. They raise  
their hand in a humble wave of two fingers and Louis has to look around him to see if they’re  
directing their distant greeting at someone else. Nobody but he seems to be focusing on the guy,  
and Louis turns back to find the estranged individual laughing at his behaviour.

“Hey.” Louis is snapped out of his bristled moment by Harry striding up to him with too much  
grace for a strapping rugby player. Harry follows Louis’ line of vision when he notices the  
unsettled manner of his boy’s stance, turning stiff with proportionate tension. “That’s Alex, their  
number eight.”

Louis isn’t sure why Harry’s telling him this but he nods anyway, turning back to the man directly  
in his company. “Ready to kick ass?”

Harry grabs Louis around his middle and plants a consequential kiss to the boy’s forehead. He’s  
not a primitive person when it comes to jealousy but that doesn’t mean Harry won’t follow his  
instincts. “We’re going to play a fair game, kitten.”

The whistle blew at Harry’s back and Louis found himself being awarded one last kiss that  
required too much lip biting for public viewers. He was a little flustered after Harry stopped  
arching him a little backwards and pecked his swollen lips modestly before running onto the field.  
There was nothing but the roaring of the crowd and the tingling of Louis’ skin to welcome Harry  
into the game.

* * * * *

A victory for Louis’ university meant the leading fraternity or sorority hosted a celebratory party in  
the name of their dominating rugby team. Such a circumstance was at hand but Louis did not fret  
an ounce because Harry turned down all invites so he could drive his boy home. He’d take Louis  
to his house rather than the boy’s flat as he understands Gemma will also be there for the  
weekend.

Louis had pounced on Harry the second the game concluded and nearly threw the captain off  
balance with the force of impact. He always had full faith in Harry’s abilities to land on his feet in  
any situation but each win still felt like a personal trophy as well. Harry had no problem  
congratulating and commending the rest of his team with Louis riding piggyback in the hubbub of  
activity they’d become.

It’s two hours to midnight when Harry presses a button that will shut the garage door after he  
parks, and Louis is swiftly climbing onto his lap. He has a sole burning purpose for catching the  
man off-guard, more than a little pleased to find that Harry barely hesitates before responding to  
his kiss. A moan slips out from Louis’ parted lips to Harry’s, their tongues corrupting one  
another’s with a sensual tangle.

Louis doesn’t know why he feels like getting Harry inside him is the reason he is breathing, and  
whines in complaint when he is denied that. Harry squeezes his bottom and gently pushes Louis in  
the direction of the back-seat, which the boy is glad to comply with. By the time he’d joined the  
back-seat, Louis has his pants off and is halfway through removing his shirt. Harry slams the door  
shut behind him before crawling into the confined space, attaching his lips instantly to Louis’  
nipple to hear his boy mewl loudly.

He nibbles and suckles on the pebbled skin for as long as it takes to have Louis writhing beneath  
him, trapped between the leather seat and Harry’s body. Louis reaches for him when the  
sensations become too much and threaten to spill over, itching to have his underwear off but  
wanting Harry to do it. The air thickens between them, filling with a charged energy that mists the  
already tinted windows and has Harry fumbling to strip off his clothes.

Louis will never admit it but he revels in the feel of Harry’s muscles under his fingertips, taking  
every chance to run his hands down the man’s rippling back. He gasps at Harry sucking  
shamelessly on his neck when he tugs off his briefs, raising his hips to aid the cause. Harry has  
the warmest hands even on days when Louis’ teeth won’t stop chattering, and when they’re  
opening Louis’ legs so he can settle between them it makes the latter feverish with want.  
Harry’s knows Louis’ body and how to read the boy’s mind without a single spoken word. He  
can tell Louis doesn’t want anything time-consuming and would like to fall asleep thoroughly  
fucked, because his boy is otherwise more difficult to get riled up. Prepping Louis is no daunting  
task even with Louis threatening to poison his toast if he doesn’t hurry up; Harry won’t be able to  
eat him out now so he fully plans to do so in the morning.

It’s no mystery why Louis is this desperate, and Harry makes him aware as he sinks slowly into  
him whilst fighting off his own impending orgasm. Louis moans, loud and high-pitched, at the  
back of his throat with every thick inch that enters him and forgets about the ache of being  
stretched so pleasurably. His nails bite into Harry’s shoulders while their mouths are connected in  
a sloppy union. Harry curses under his breath when he’s fully seated inside Louis, his voice a  
raspy sliver of what it usually is.

“Eyes open.” Harry manages to instruct. He marvels at the tender state of Louis’ untamed blue  
eyes, and moves in his first thrust while observing every twitch from the boy.

Louis’ leg hooks over the back of the seat and the other falls to the floor, because all he cares  
about Harry. Harry who is the welcome intruder to his body. Harry who moves against him with  
hard, deep thrusts of his hips that have Louis grappling to hold the car door so he isn’t shoved  
further up the seat. The smell of sex and sound of clammy skin in contact should be nauseating but  
Louis’ come to learn that the messier it feels, the better it is.

“Fuck. You feel so amazing, kitten.” Harry’s praise was throttled by his own imminent release and  
the strained willpower he’s exercising to restrain it.  
Louis had recovered enough of his wit to retaliate whilst arching off the seat to have his chest  
flush against Harry’s front. His breath caught in his throat when Harry’s rhythm became sloppy,  
their hips gyrating sinfully together. “S-Sound like a virgin.”

Harry chuckles into Louis’ ear, slipping his arms under the boy’s weight to raise his lower half off  
the seat for a preferred angle. He felt the burn in his thighs from exerting himself tonight to excess  
but Harry honestly cannot see himself forfeiting an opportunity ever to be sheathed in Louis’  
tightness. “Feels like it. Your ass is heaven.”

“Remember that.” Louis pulls Harry down for a kiss of messy proportions. He reaches a hand  
down between them but is caught before he can touch himself. “Harry-”

“Fuck no, kitten.” Harry pinned Louis’ arms away from where he could ease his own suffering.  
His strength had effortlessly dominated Louis’, and stopped thrusting with vigilant ferocity to roll  
into Louis’ body torturously. “This. Come from this.”

Louis’ thighs quivered as he felt his orgasm slam into him when he was most vulnerable. He cried  
out, clawing at Harry’s biceps when it sent him into an intense spiral where white spots exploded  
behind his closed eyelids and he could only breathe through his parted lips. Harry loved watching  
Louis reach his climax; his muscles would tense up before going completely lax. It was like being  
drawn further into where he was buried to the hilt already, and being used for Louis’ sweet  
pleasure.

When the storm had passed and Louis blinked his eyes open he was smiling dreamily up at Harry.  
He was hardly bothered by the addition of his release between them before pushing Harry back by  
his shoulders. The man would be confused if he hadn’t been engaging in heated activities with  
Louis for years. He sat back in the seat where Louis directs him to be, losing the air in his lungs  
when the boy straddles his thighs and takes him inside his body again.

Louis placed his palms on Harry’s heaving torso when he raised and lowered his hips, leaving the  
air between them laden with breathy gasps and whimpers. It’s always felt deeper when he was on  
top and Harry held onto his waist tightly enough to bruise. He wound his arms around Harry’s  
neck and continued to move his hips with agonising leisureliness, relishing in the man reaching  
around to grope his behind with both hands.

Harry starts to dictate Louis’ pace when he’s so close and desperate to reach his peak; he mouthed  
at Louis’ throat until damp remnants marked up the boy’s skin. A bit of Louis’ skin was caught  
between Harry’s teeth, livening up the complexion with blood rushing to the under surface. He  
muffles his shout that way when he comes, heightening Louis’ sensitivity by spurting within him.  
Louis rarely allowed himself to be identified as cute but right then Harry would easily risk an arm  
to say that his boy is adorable. He was all flushed skin down to his belly button, swollen lips from  
their earlier abuse, and brilliantly illuminated cobalt orbs.

“Hey there pretty boy.” Harry brushed Louis’ lower lip with the pad of his thumb, laughing when  
his companion bit him. “You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen.”

“And you’re a dork.” Louis flicks one of Harry’s nipples with his finger. “The dorkiest dork to  
ever be.”

* * * * *

Louis finished pouring coffee into Mark Johnson’s mug and slid the cream jug to him, waiting to  
have it back before leaving. He’d hauled a stool from the bar to a counter in the back where he  
could see new customers but also trust that nobody will mess with his notes. Earl is not  
exceedingly strict with their food so Louis gets to cut himself a slice of cherry pie and pour himself  
a cup of tea without being reprimanded.

Revising with Tony’s reggae music in the background, Angie’s gossip with Gemma and Earl’s  
shouting into a receiver are conditions Louis has learned to ignore a year ago. Tony made him  
promise to finish the Spanish omelette made just for Louis, or he isn’t going anywhere until he  
does. Louis doesn’t know how obvious it is that he skipped breakfast at Harry’s place to drive  
here with the man’s SUV; he might have rode with Gemma if he didn’t have plans to stop by the  
only record store within driving distance.

Harry’s birthday is coming up next week and Louis has been waiting two weeks for Pink Floyd’s  
vinyl edition of More to arrive. He also intended to buy the largest dildo he can find, wrap it in  
glittery paper so its shape was evident while resting on the vinyl. Louis is humbly self-entitled as  
the King of gift-giving.

At noon Louis packs up and doesn’t bother changing out of his uniform before rushing out to the  
parking lot. He drives for twenty-two minutes and parks haphazardly before running into Khaya’s  
Records, going up to the familiar face at the counter with his credit card in hand. Louis usually  
hates spending his money but Harry’s not going to turn twenty-three again so he doesn’t flinch  
when signing off a three figure amount. The dildo is already hidden in Louis’ bathroom, still in its  
packaging.

It’s only at four in the evening that Louis leaves the public library to follow a text Harry sent and  
meet him at the campus grounds. Harry had rugby practice nearly all day and he asked Louis to  
come fetch him.

The college is a ghost town when Louis pulls up next to the freshly mowed field, and finds Harry  
chatting to the only other person present. He’s dressed in a faded green muscle shirt and jeans that  
are too tight, his hair still wet from his recent shower and gym bag slung over his shoulder. Louis  
takes the key out of the ignition but leaves the driver’s door gaping when he makes his way across  
the gravel path to Harry and Ian, their team’s right wing.

Ian walks off before Louis reaches them. Harry sees him coming and flashes Louis a stunning  
megawatt grin, holding his hand out for the boy to take from a distance. “There you are. Haven’t  
seen you all day, kitten.”

“You don’t pay me enough to stick around that much.” Louis pressed his chronically frozen  
fingers against Harry’s waist where they might even out. “You’re not my only client either.”  
“I think you enjoy my company the most.” Harry coils his arm around Louis’ waist when they’re  
closer, pressing a light peck to his forehead.

“I do love your dick.” Louis rolls his eyes and withdraws so he might walk back to the vehicle  
with Harry in tow. “How did you get to campus?”

“Took the bus.” Harry sniffed against the breeze whipping around them  
Louis was pouting after hearing that. He threw the keys and Harry snatched them before their  
downfall. “Should I apologise?”

“No, kitten.” Harry laughed huskily, the way he did when he was susceptible to the cold after a  
shower. “If you recall, you asked me in the morning if you could take my keys.”  
“Yeah but-”

“It’s fine.” Harry silenced Louis by stealing a kiss with too much self-confidence conducting his  
smirk. “Sorry to be rude but I’d like to go home now.”

* * * * *

The weekend proved to be most productive for Louis. He got the majority of his revision down  
and celebrated by dancing with no coordination on Harry’s bed while the owner looked on, close  
to busting a vein with his laughter. By Monday Louis was ready to return to his own apartment  
with nothing more on his schedule than work, lectures and Harry’s party on Wednesday.  
“I don’t trust you enough for that, Styles.” Louis was wearing Harry’s ratty university sweater  
from first year, and speaking above the music emanating from the stereo system against the wall.  
Harry loved to pretend like they still resided in the sixties.

Harry stood three feet from the foot of the bed in his low hanging sweats and arms outstretched.  
“Come on, baby. I won’t drop you.”

Louis was not going to play the cheerleader by leaping off the bed and hoping Harry catches him  
before he cracks open his skull. He turns around, shimmying his hips in tandem with the music.  
“Stop standing there like a scarecrow, will you?”

“Have faith in me, kitten.” Harry chided guiltlessly, not at all oblivious to Louis’ frame donning  
just underwear and his jumper.

Something must have worn Louis down in the next fifteen minutes because he sighed irritably  
and jumped off the bed, directionless and slightly anxious. He doesn’t reward Harry much when  
the man catches him by the backs of his thighs, putting him at a foot or so higher than Harry.  
Louis tugs on Harry’s hair when he’s met with a cocky grin, supporting his weight by pressing  
down on his carrier’s shoulders.

“It’s raining.” He states softly. One would discover that Louis adores rainy weather if one  
bothered to observe him for long enough.

Harry was about to respond when his bedroom door swung open to reveal Gemma at the mercy of  
an ice cream bowl. She had curlers in her hair and fuzzy socks on her feet. “H, you forgot to take  
out the trash.”

“Right, sorry.” Harry lowered Louis to the floor with a kiss to the boy’s cheek. “I’ll be right  
back.”

Louis followed him as far as the kitchen to get his own serving of ice cream. He put salted caramel  
and chocolate brownie in the same bowl, dashed the mixture with extra sprinkles and stuck a  
wafer between them. On his way to the living room Louis got to giggle at Harry’s dripping state  
re-entering the house from dumping the trash outside, exaggerated shivers and teeth chattering  
earning the man some sympathy.

“I sleep in that room so don’t give it that damp smell please.” Louis mercifully fed Harry a  
spoonful of his messy sundae and gave the man’s plump lips a kiss.

When Harry joined Louis in the lounge it was to the dialogue of City Slickers starring Billy  
Crystal and all the curtains drawn so illuminated warmth came only from the fireplace. Harry had  
dried his hair and given it more volume that leaving it untended might have, so that forced him  
into tying it back. Louis drew back the blanket he was using to let Harry join him, scooting a little  
further back so Harry could fit.

“Don’t get sick on me.” He warned the other male steadily.  
Harry hissed when Louis’ cold feet landed on his thighs, knowing fully well as he massaged them  
through Louis’ socks that it would do nothing to warm them up. “I’ll try my best, kitten.”

* * * * *

“God damn it! I told you not to get sick on me, Styles.” Louis wasn’t really angry when he saw  
Harry in the cafeteria on Tuesday.

Harry had been at the pool tables with some friends who Louis couldn’t remember the names of,  
and from a mile away his winces were visible. He handed his stick to someone else when Louis  
accused him of poor health. “I’m not sick, kitten.”

Louis knew the symptoms. He never got sick but Harry would fall prone to ailment once a year at  
least. The permanently reddened nose, clogged voice and heavy breathing were all sure-fire signs.  
“I’ll break up with you if you’re lying to me.”

“So you admit we’re-”

“Don’t you dare say it.” Louis glared at the others who were indiscreetly having a merry time of  
overhearing their argument. He turned back to Harry soon after. “You can’t be sick on your  
birthday. It’s bad luck.”

“It isn’t.” Harry refuted, bemused. He sounded like someone had run over his larynx with a tractor  
and rubbed his eyes until they were bloodshot. “I’ll go home and have some of that ginger tea  
Mom used to make.”

Louis was not convinced and eyed Harry shiftily for the remainder of their conversation, but he  
resigned in the end. While Harry had nothing left to do for the rest of the day, Louis had a test in  
an hour and a practical thereafter as their module coordinator hassled to complete their assorted  
tasks by the time exam period dawned on them. He dumped every belonging except his labcoat  
and pencil where Harry could take it along when he left for the day.

It was expected when Harry turned around and faced the juvenile snickering of his former  
fraternity brothers. He stood with a reassigned pool stick propped under his chin until it was his  
turn; what he didn’t anticipate was Ian’s unwanted remark.

“Why do you let him wear you like that, Haz?” The hulking team member pointed out,  
straightening after taking his shot. He was not discouraged when the others made varying  
disapproving sounds about broaching this topic. “He something special?”

Harry is very avid about voice over fists, but that didn’t necessarily outline the limits of his temper.  
He will take nonsense and bitter gossip about himself at any hour with a laugh, but the subject of  
Louis is where he drew the line boldly. “Too special for you to understand, Ian.”  
There was snorts of derisive humour from the others following Harry’s response. Ian was not so  
keen, however. “Fuck you, Styles.”

Silence fell on their circle of familiars when Harry took his turn and knocked two balls off the  
table. “Try not to forget that you play on my team, Ian. On my team, we don’t make statements  
just to hear our own voices.”

* * * * *

Louis looked horrified where he sat across from Harry on the balcony, armed with an obnoxiously  
leaden textbook and highlighter. “He took a swing at you?”

“Yeah.” Harry was doodling something on Louis’ ankle that was bound to be disproportionate  
and poorly figured. “If Alice from Math hadn’t screamed I probably would have had to take it  
too.”

“Wow.” Louis guffawed. “Did you at least hit him back?”

“No.” Harry scoffed, colouring the wings of his butterfly art. “What would that have done? Coach  
kicked him off the team all the same.”

Louis capped his neon yellow highlighter before it dried out in the light wind circulating in their  
vicinity. He pushed his glasses a little further up the bridge of his nose to keep them from slipping  
off, chewing uneasily on his lip. “Well, thank you uh- for defending me.”

Harry didn’t need gratitude but he smiled upon hearing it anyway. Louis is the most bluntly  
uncomfortable person around heart-to-heart speech though he probably meant it more than anyone  
Harry’s ever met. Just because he struggled in verbalising his feelings didn’t mean Louis could not  
experience them.

He raised his head from concentrating on a little cartoon speech bubble to wink at Louis. “Sure  
thing, kitten.”

Harry sneezed and the mood was ruined. By nightfall Louis had him sleeping so soundly that the  
man’s snores were imminent and already filling the room at eight o’clock. Louis has slept in the  
same bed with Harry for too long to take notice of the noise anymore, a consequence of blocked  
sinuses that got treated every morning with a nasal spray. He worked at Harry’s desk with a single  
lamp on until he was falling asleep on his scribbled notes, which was his cue to get into bed as  
well.

The next day rendered no good news; Harry was still sniffling and coughing with a nose to rival  
Rudolf’s so he planned to stay home. What proved to be the most pleasant part of his morning was  
waking up to Louis’ lips wrapped around him under the covers. Harry usually had commendable  
stamina but his deteriorating condition left him panting after Louis decided to suckle on the tip of  
his length. He cursed with his fingers buried in Louis’ hair, guiding the boy’s bobbing head as per  
his preference. Louis is well acquainted with what Harry liked but he allowed himself to led  
anyway.

Harry sucked in a sharp breath when the struggle to contain his orgasm became visible by the  
protruding vein in his neck. His hips jerked upward and Louis sucked him down as far he could  
go, swallowing around the throbbing girth to feel Harry’s resultant shudders. Harry came down  
Louis’ throat without any warning and much earlier than either of them expected; he was heaving  
with ragged breaths by the time Louis surfaced from underneath the comforter.

“You’re burning up.” Louis put his hand to Harry’s forehead and neck, worry apparent in his  
expression.

Harry captured the boy’s hand instead and pulled him down to be spooned. His eyes were half lidded and he sneezed thrice into the tissue Louis handed him. “I’m fine, kitten.”  
“Yeah, and I have a third eye.” Louis wiggled his way to freedom and pulled on a stray shirt he’d  
discarded last night. “You should take a shower. It might help.”

“No.” Harry planted his head on Louis’ pillow, face down. “Come back to bed.”  
Louis didn’t listen. He retrieved vitamin supplements from the kitchen – taking the advice he’s  
followed for years and doubled the dosage – and brought Harry a hot cup of tea. Harry is the one  
between them who can cook something decent so Louis asks Gemma to make something before  
leaving for work. He takes everything back to the bedroom on a tray, complete with the last  
muffin from the batch the housekeeper bought yesterday.

“You make a pretty wife, kitten.” Harry cajoled from his propped up position on the bed. He  
looked miserable with teary eyes and long, wheezing drags of air to breathe.  
“Call me that again and this tea is going down your pants.” Louis threatened with no real bite to  
his words. He set the tray down on Harry’s lap before settling down with his legs crossed.  
Harry did his embarrassing suggestive eyebrow wag. “Don’t believe I am wearing any pants.”  
Louis liberated his own treat from the food assortment, ripping the muffin down its middle so he  
could consume it in tiny nibbles. “Oh! I got a copy of the college paper. You guys made the front  
cover with the match last Friday.”

“Thanks, kitten. I’ll take it from you later.” Harry liked keeping a record of all his games, win or  
lose. He had a majorly sentimental heart. “Guess who called me yesterday?”

“Who?” Louis didn’t do guessing games or suspense in general. He was a massive spoiler fan if  
he cared enough to ask someone or research it; nothing about the play of events was going to  
change depending on when he found out about them.

Harry swallowed his bite of buttered toast with a gulp of steaming herbal tea. “Marcus.”  
“Really? He’s been MIA for over a year now.”  
Marcus is Harry’s first cousin and the only relative that he made an effort to stay in contact with.  
He was wealthy enough to travel around the world as a freelance photographer and bothered to  
make a pit-stop by visiting family at least once every two years.

“Yeah.” Harry cleared his throat and set down the warm mug. “He said he’s planning to open a  
gallery downtown and wants people he trusts to be involved.”  
“Does he mean to help him set up?” Louis questioned, licking the melted chocolate remnants off  
his fingertips.

“He didn’t want to elaborate on the phone.” Harry shrugs noncommittally. “Said to tell you he  
called and wants to meet at this old dance studio.”  
“Alright. As long as he doesn’t spill paint on me again.”  
Harry sighed, fond of Louis’ way of twisting fact. “You decided to squeeze the acrylic tubes all  
on your own, kitten.”

“He enabled me.” Louis argued half-heartedly, suddenly remembering that today is in fact Harry’s  
birthday. Louis slid off the bed and rushed to get the gift he spent two hours wrapping before  
rejoining Harry on the bed with a little bounce. “Happy birthday!”  
The wince Harry made at Louis’ abruptly sharp volume increase was barely noticeable. He raised  
an eyebrow at his boy’s suspiciously packaged present, conflicted by the outline of a genital on a  
platform of some sort. “You got me a dildo?”

Louis didn’t say anything while Harry pried open the tape and tried his best not to tear the paper  
concealing his newest possession. At first his eyes were all for the eight inch sex toy in its rainbow  
colouring and unsettling plastic smell, until the surface on which it sat stood out to him. Harry’s  
vision lit up like he was a little boy getting his first Christmas present and it was possible not to  
smile with him.

“Fuck kitten.” Harry was in awe as he flipped the sealed vinyl over and traced the creases in its  
exterior. “How much did this cost?”  
All he got was a kiss smothering his cheek and playful dismissiveness. “You let me worry about  
the money, honey.”

Harry reached over to grasp Louis’ thigh below the hem of his boxers, tugging relentlessly until he  
gets the boy to lean closer to connect their lips. Louis covers Harry’s mouth with his hand and  
kisses the back of it instead, giggling to himself when the latter male glowers at such detached  
treatment. Never has an impending cold marred Harry’s intentions for delivering gratitude so  
much and he hates that it does with a passion.

* * * * *

The dance studio Marcus asked them to meet with him at is sandwiched between a Jewish deli  
and ice cream parlour. Harry’s cold expires after three days and he gets to take Louis along to  
meet his cousin after that time, eager to be out of the house where the sun can singe off his earlier  
grogginess. Louis could only stay with Harry for the first day returning to work and classes that  
demanded his attention.

An undoubtable silver lining of it was that Louis brought him back a double beef cheeseburger on  
Thursday and barbequed ribs with extra fries on Friday. Harry thinks he proposed after the second  
one and had Louis hit him in the face with a pillow.

This venue is already a hive of activity by the looks of a moving van parked outside and curious  
children craning their necks to catch a glimpse of what’s going on. If this truly was a dance studio  
there’s no external evidence of it now because Marcus had the old signage torn down or scraped  
off, replaced with crystal glass windows and a heavy steel door.

Harry’s cousin greets them after jogging out onto the sidewalk. Marcus has had the same brunette  
highlights in his wavy golden hair for as long as Louis can remember. He always has a pair of  
aviators propped at his hairline and a waistcoat in varying shades of purple over his T-shirts; what  
is common between him and Harry might be their fondness for overly tight jeans. Both of them  
have asked Louis at one point or another to keep safe their phones or wallets because neither  
would fit into their own pockets.

“Harry.” Marcus’ million dollar smile is characteristic of the Styles bloodline. He pulls his cousin  
into a hug before patting him on the shoulder blade like a father would. When it’s Louis’ turn for a  
greeting Marcus lifts him off the ground in a tight squeeze between his arms, ignoring Louis’ halfhearted squirming. “How long has it been, Lou?”  
“Not long enough, you big bear.” Louis bats his way free to stand independently on the pavement,  
unable to smother his own pleased expression.

Marcus stands with them alongside the idle vehicles tending to his new gallery venue,  
enlightening them both on his most gruelling and astonishing ventures overseas. He doesn’t mind  
when Louis swipes the sunglasses off his forehead and puts them on for himself, an ordinary sign  
of his boredom. They got a tour of Marcus’ current studio and the flat above it in which he insists  
on occupying even though Harry offered him the guestroom in his house.  
Louis climbs hastily over the ramp railing at the entrance while Harry walks around it. Marcus  
shows them the space that will be used to display his work in a few weeks to the public. As  
expected, they got to have hibiscus tea and Twinkies on the rooftop while Marcus proposed what  
he had in mind.

“I want you two in my gallery.” Marcus announces ambiguously. He watched Louis’ face morph  
into the poster for confusion. “Not just attend. I want you guys to be part of the artwork.”  
Harry braced his hand on Louis’ knee under the table, drumming his fingers to keep them busy.  
“You want to photograph us, you mean?”

“Exactly.” Marcus sits back in his cushioned garden chair, fingers laced together over his belly.  
“Would you be willing?”

“I don’t know, Marcus.” Harry had no issue with being behind the camera and appearing in  
candid photographs for newspaper articles. His disinclination arose when the lens was focused  
purposely on him.

“I think it could be cool.” Louis heard himself say. He was wide-eyed at his own unhindered  
readiness. Even Harry glances at him out of the corner of his eye with surprise but Louis merely  
shrugs. “What?”

Harry sighs, but not exactly from frustration. “What brought this on, Marcus?”  
Marcus is more than happy to explain his motivation. “I have been photographing nearly  
everything that’s beautiful in any country that drew me there, but I’ve come to learn that anything  
truly remarkable is often intangible.”

“Too many big words, Marcus.” Louis was finishing his favourite packaged treat when he added  
his criticism.

“My apologies then, Louis.” Marcus laughs, revealing his unusually sharp canines. “What I’m  
saying is, let me show the world your love. There’s a connection you two have that I did not have  
the pleasure of witnessing between anyone else.”

“Aw.” Louis cooes, masking the blush on his own face by reaching over to pinch Harry’s cheeks.  
“We’re connected.”

Harry cracked a benevolent smirk when he grasped Louis’ hand in his to keep the boy from  
poking one his eyes. “You’ve made this one excited, Marcus. There’s no turning back for us  
now.”

“Excellent.” Marcus claps his hands together, leaning forward again. “Come see me again  
tomorrow after the sun has set because I don’t work before that.”  
“Of course.” Harry was not oblivious to Louis ‘ fidgetiness, which gave him an idea. “It’s noon  
right now so why don’t you join us for lunch? My treat. I’ll even call Gemma.”  
“I think I’ll take you up on that. Haven’t seen that girl in ages.” Marcus rose from the table at the  
same time as his guests.

Louis whistled disapprovingly. “Don’t call her a girl if you ever want to have kids.”

* * * * *

Marcus’ photography studio leaves everything to the imagination. He picked the most expansive  
room in the establishment to throw white sheets over the windows and pin them on the empty  
walls. Nightfall made everything more ominous and casted odd caricatures of things on the street  
onto his floor. There was a table set up beside a spotless tripod that Louis warned himself to stay  
away from because he’ll never be able to pay Marcus back for damage done.

Harry didn’t expect to do more than stand in front of the camera for a few hours awkwardly until  
he could go home and recover from the blinding flashes, but Marcus didn’t seem a hurry to get  
their work done. Louis had taken an apple from Marcus’ miniscule kitchen to nibble on while he  
bided the time.

“I’m the one who sucks your dick.” Louis refused to jump and demean his own height  
disadvantage because Harry was holding a desired chocolate bar above his head. “Why are you  
being mean to me?”

“You cannot get full on snacks.” Harry explained calmly, his lips twisting into a smug chuckle at  
Louis’ distaste. “The last time I let you do that you couldn’t eat your dinner and got sick in the  
morning.”

Louis groaned without the slightest hint of volume control. “I’m not a child, Styles.”  
“No, kitten. Of course not.” Harry’s free arm circled Louis’ hips and tugged him closer, pecking  
the boy’s lips. “Still gotta take care of you.”

Louis didn’t get the chocolate bar because Harry tucked it into his back pocket under the tail of his  
airy silk shirt. His attention was yanked away from the current devastation when some commotion  
ensued on the street outside. Harry watched him go to the window and lean out of it to observe the  
argument between strangers. When Louis threatened to shout something at them he ran to collect  
the boy and cover his mouth just to be safe.

Marcus allows Harry to draw nonchalantly on the furthest wall from the door with chalk. Louis  
stood at Harry’s side for a minute before he sneezed and scurried off to fidget with Marcus’  
belongings. He took eight Polaroid shots of himself making silly faces, all of which he discards  
except for one.

It was easy to forget about the wasted hours when Marcus sat them down on the floor and  
engaged them in a conversation to be updated on one another. Harry had Louis fall asleep on his  
shoulder, his lips slightly parted and fingers twitching whenever something disturbed him. He  
pressed a kiss to the boy’s forehead by angling his head a little uncomfortably to do so, adjusting  
his arm out of the way so Louis fell gently against his chest instead. There was nothing life  
threatening or deathly about Louis when he was asleep; when his sinuses acted up he would drool  
a little bit from keeping his mouth open.

Harry jumps out of his reverie when a flash goes off and it barely causes Louis to flinch. He finds  
Marcus lowering his Nikon camera with a selection of stickers scattered across its exterior. “What  
was that?”

Marcus was smiling to himself when he saves the photograph and flicks the little lever to put the  
device off. “I’m not surprised you didn’t notice me sooner. You’re very taken with each other.”  
Harry is usually very articulate but he’s presently confused with no sign of reprieve. “Huh?”  
“I’ve been photographing you two since you arrived.” Marcus leaned back on his elbows,  
indulging in a private joke. “When you opened his door for him even though he didn’t want you  
to. When Louis channelled his inner pre-schooler by leaping over a puddle of rain water. The  
chocolate bar wars. While you graced my walls with your art and he went to town with my  
Polaroid. This, right now. I got it all.”

“Wow.” Harry was disappointed himself for not recognising the fact that Marcus was visually  
documenting all of that.  
Marcus’ smile softened. “Did you think I was going to put you in front of a camera and capture  
what’s not genuine? Tut tut, Harry.”

“I don’t give you enough credit, cousin.” The man looked down at Louis’ stirring form, stopping  
his head from snapping back by cradling Louis’ nape. “He’s going to be a little disappointed  
though.”

Louis wakes up from his light period of stagnation with a yawn. He’s always soft and harmless,  
all for Harry’s taking, when he first arises from any form of sleep. Harry smiles warmly down at  
the drowsy sapphires peering up at him from behind fluttery eyelashes, trailing his fingers down  
Louis’ throat before fitting his lips against the seam of Louis’. The moment is ruptured when  
Marcus’ camera flash goes off twice from two feet away.

Unlike what Harry thought, Marcus gave Louis his opportunity to pose as he wished in front of  
the camera. Harry stayed out of the limelight for as long as possible, standing where he could see  
the resulting shots and spineless against his own pride for Louis’ absent reservations. He wore no  
expression most of the time, his eyes hooded and smouldering as he bit his lower lip. Sometimes  
he’d clap after Louis earned it, chaffed to receive the Nikon from Marcus so he can forge his own  
compilation of snapshots.

The time comes for them to leave upon their own choice and Harry ignores Marcus’ raucous  
laughter coupled with continual flashes when he lifts Louis into a fireman carry so they can exit.  
“I’ll call you sometime tomorrow, yeah? Bye, Marcus.”  
Louis echoes him more enthusiastically, waving even from where he’s draped over Harry’s  
shoulder. “Bye, Marcus!”

* * * * *

Valentine’s day is not something bothered with – or remembered really – so he was more than a  
little frazzled when Harry showed up at his door armed with two bouquets of red roses. It was  
eight in the morning on his and Gemma’s day off so naturally, Harry’s phonecall had woken him  
up. Louis glowered at the man who looked pretty pleased with himself and considered slamming  
the door in his face.

“I brought you chocolate.” Harry could sense the direction of Louis’ thoughts and thought he’d  
whip out the heavy artillery.

Louis resigned to his fate, moving out of the way so Harry could step inside. To his credit, Harry  
wasn’t wearing more than sweatpants and a T-shirt he’s outgrown so Louis’ hopes for wasting the  
day by endless napping is still a possibility.

“Why two bouquets?” He asked whilst heading to the kitchen where he’d hunt for a vase. It’s  
really the one thing he sees every day until he needs it.

Harry set both cellophane wrapped bunches on the counter with the heart-shaped box of  
chocolates. “The other is for Gems.”

“What’s for me?” His sister walked in looking nearly identical to Louis, disgruntled and horrified  
by the mobile garden in her kitchen. “Ew Harry. You’re my brother.”  
“You have someone planning to give you roses today?” Harry fired back.  
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Gemma accepted her defeat then, giving her sibling a hug and kiss on  
his cheek. “You’re the best brother in the whole world.”

Louis winced at his own harshness when he dropped the plastic vase in the sink whilst trying to  
rinse it out. He snipped the plastic sheets at their ends and unwound them from the ties rose stems  
so he can arrange them in the neon pink vase. It turns out that Harry wasn’t going to force Louis  
out from under the safety of his comforter. Louis just got rid of his bedframe’s legs so his mattress  
sat on the floor in a wooden cradle. He was very keen on rolling around in it with the abundance  
of sheets he horded.

“Is my Valentine going to make me sleep the entire day?” Harry was removing his sweats and  
shirt at the dresser. Louis swears Harry was a nudist in another life with how skilful he is at  
stripping off everything he dons in less than a minute.

“Maybe.” Louis looks at the superhero alarm clock beside his bed, revolted at the digits staring  
back at him. “Did you wanna do something?”

“Oh we are doing something.” Harry said firmly as he dumped his watch, wallet and keys into the  
little seashell bowl on Louis’ wardrobe. “We’re going to the opening night of Swan Lake and  
after that maybe we can just drive a bit.”

“I do like ballet.” Half Louis’ face was blocked by the covers he hid behind. “Maybe you aren’t  
the worst suitor.”

Harry made an unflattering snort of derision. “Thanks, kitten.”

It’s not an effortlessly accomplished task trying to fall asleep again after one has been disturbed  
from the initial state of rest. After their fourth night together Harry knew what would subdue a  
restless, energetic Louis at any given moment. He joined his boy under the haven for forgotten  
threads and let Louis use his bicep for a pillow. His companion would shiver when Harry brushed  
a ticklish spot on his neck or elsewhere, turning his face into the crook of the man’s arm so his  
weakness was not detected. Harry can’t remember when he started to sing but it had to be around  
the time Louis tangled their legs together.

“Styles. Haz. Harry.” Louis is speaking with his mouth on Harry’s pulse, breathing hotly against  
the man’s skin. “Babe.”

Harry hums, leaning over his boy and barks out a laugh when he buries his face in Louis’ neck.  
He aligns their bodies by stretching Louis’ delectable form out, moaning as he sinks his teeth into  
a bruise he’s left on Louis’ skin earlier. “Yeah, kitten?”

Louis brings Harry down to his level, fitting their mouths together in a deviously intense kiss. He  
runs his hands up Harry’s chest from his abdomen and frames the man’s face where it hovers  
above him. “Let’s make a baby.”

Harry’s amusement is interrupted by his duty to nibbling on Louis’ pursed lips. “Sure, kitten. You  
want a baby right now?”

“Yeah.” Louis releases a shuddery exhale when Harry settles down between his thighs and rolls  
their hips together. He feels safe enough to let a moan escape him as Harry grinds shamelessly  
against him. “I want your babies.”

“More than one?” Harry licks a stripe across Louis’ throbbing jugular. He feels his boy tug on his  
hair with threaded fingers between the curls. “How many babies you want, kitten?”

Louis arched his back so Harry’s arms could slip around his middle, reaching down with one hand  
to desperately tug on the hem of his shirt. He panted brokenly when Harry forced his shirt away  
and lowered himself with keen agility, pressing his face into Louis’ subtly perfumed skin. Louis  
whimpered when Harry’s tongue dipped into his belly button and his calloused fingertips began to  
work on the knot of his sweatpants.

His jaw was gaping when Harry’s teeth started marking up the taut flesh just above his thigh,  
smothering his shout of pleasure at the treatment. “All of ‘em. Want to have all your babies.”

* * * * *

Running around campus because Louis’ marks for two different modules were incorrectly  
recorded on his profile and the practical demonstrators he had to consult with were unavailable,  
was getting on Louis’ nerves. He hadn’t eaten all day because he was late for the compulsory  
morning lectures and had to get this rectified before two in the afternoon, so his conscious was  
clear when he went in for his shift at work.

Harry’s equally as busy between submitting two written assignments, completing a practical and  
meeting the team for evening practice. They’d happened by each other in the LAN where Louis  
was purchasing his printing credits and Harry had met with another student for the work he’d  
missed when he was ill. It was brief with no c  
ontact other than a hurried wave, but neither seemed  
worried by such curtness.  
Louis throws himself into Gemma’s backseat rather than elegantly climbing in at three o’clock, an  
hour before he has to be at Jef erson’s B&G. He changes into his uniform whilst manoeuvring in a  
confined space to do so, leaving his backpack and books on the seat when they come to a halt in  
the dimly lit parking lot. Gemma laughs at Louis’ flustered person stepping out of her car, blowing  
his fringe out of his eyes.

The restaurant section of the bar and grill is already buzzing with life when Louis walks in tying  
the strings of his apron behind him. He meets Angie in the back for an official hand-over in Earl’s  
presence, then rushing out to greet Tony and Jim. Waiting for him on the bar countertop is a  
bottle of iced tea from Jim, who tells Louis he looks as exhausted as can be.

Their patrons are especially demanding tonight and have Louis rushing back and forth until he had  
to take his break. Table nine asked for extra ranch with their fries and complained when the  
quantity of fries was insufficient. Louis had to bring table thirteen soda refills three times and  
clench his fists rather than yell when they treated him like a mentally incapable server. A girl at  
table twelve and two much older men at table fifteen tried to hit on him, but only the latter took his  
dejection in their stride.

Louis couldn’t help his cringe when he accepts the generous tip from the middle-aged men and  
finds a note advertising them to him as sugardaddies. He would be emotionally numb if he hadn’t  
experienced mixed feelings – delight, repulsion and masked embarrassment. Tony informed him  
that he has a responsibility to being flattered even if he doesn’t want to, but Louis assures him he’s  
doing fine without that.

Earl leaves early and only reveals his reason when Tony hounds him for twenty minutes; he has a  
saucy date with someone he’s been seeing for a few weeks. All his employees manage to make  
Earl blush when they applaud him on his way out.

Gemma asks to switch tables when the obnoxious group of trust-fund teenage boys pass one too  
many comments at her, and begs Louis to give her the table with four construction workers who  
are always in here at ten o’clock. He is in no mood to tolerate the nonsense from entitled  
youngsters and makes sure the cashmere-wearing fools know that. Luckily enough, they shut up  
after Louis’ deathly glare seems to hold more of a threat than they’re prepared to call their fathers  
to handle.

Jim makes an experimental cocktail when the bar attendees start to only request pints of beer.  
They’re visually similar to a glittery galaxy and Louis doesn’t feel like having one all to himself so  
he takes a sip from Gemma’s. It’s wonderful and bound to be overpriced when Earl finds out.  
Somewhere between notifying an uptight mother that her son falling on their premises is not their  
liability and having a drunkard shout about pirate treasure, Louis stumbles on probably the last  
person he expected to see ever. He’s the only person whose eyes widen with shock when Alex,  
the number eight player of a visiting team from weeks ago, walks in with a herd of his loud  
buddies.

Watching the lean and mysterious new arrival stand awkwardly at their entrance has Louis rolling  
his eyes. He sees that Gemma is preoccupied with her tables and decides that he has to tend to  
them so he puts on his polite, professional smile and greets them at the door.

Alex does look a little surprised to see him even though Louis pays him no mind outside of the  
usual courtesies. Up close the colour of his eyes are light grey and very unnerving to have focused  
on Louis. The companions at Alex’s back are dressed in maroon varsity jackets and could easily  
be the different posters for hairstyles on a barber’s walls. One has silvery locks tied back, the other  
has a pitch black buzzcut and the third’s golden quiff is the only thing that’s organised about him.  
Louis finds them a seat in the last remaining empty table in his section, and hands each of them a  
laminated menu. He clicks his pen in readiness to take their beverage orders when Alex crushes  
his façade.

“I know you, don’t I?” He speaks up, bringing everyone at his table to dead silence. Alex neglects  
his menu in favour of flashing Louis a smile that requires the most amount of effort on his behalf.  
Louis takes a deep breath. “No. Can I take your drink orders while you wait?”  
Alex persists and his friends look severely triumphed by surprise; he must be one who doesn’t talk  
much otherwise. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Louis glared daggers at the guy with a buzzcut for the lowering of his gaze. After a year  
of working here in mid-thigh shorts, he knew how to handle creeps. “Hey! Eyes up here.”  
The stranger has the grace to appear ashamed, looking away entirely when Alex delivers him a  
look that must have uprooted his bravery. Alex turns back to Louis. “He’s sorry. Richard here  
didn’t learn his manners as early as the rest of us.”

“It’s fine.” Louis nodded tersely. “Beverages?”

Alex resigns from his insistence after that, sitting back with a slouch like a disgruntled child.  
“Water for me.”

Louis walks away to prepare their drinks and is stopped by Tony when he hides out in the kitchen  
after delivering the iced water, tap water and two beers to Alex’s party. Alex seems to have given  
up on making Louis recognise him, which is right up there on the list of best things to happen  
today.

Tony catcalls when he sees Louis take a seat on a sealed box of cutlery. “Who’s the hunk giving  
you all kinds of looks out there?”

Louis groans audibly and miserably. “Alex. He’s on the rugby team from another university.”  
“Oh, sugar.” Tony peeks out of the opening in the wall to watch Alex brooding at his table while  
his friends chat aimlessly. “He’s a twelve out of ten and I’ve seen some of the best twelve’s.”  
“He’s all yours.” Louis wished Alex didn’t make him so uncomfortable; meeting new people is  
usually a mechanical process for him but this particular acquaintance made Louis want to run and  
hide. “You got my nachos and chilli fries ready?”

Louis manages to get everyone in his section out the door before twelve even with a second  
drunkard’s act of turning on the jukebox so everyone started dancing. Gemma and Louis handled  
their tables whilst trying to not be swept into the hyped crowd, laughing to themselves when  
they’re twirled by Jim or dipped without permission by Tony. He even stops by Alex’s table to  
check on them when he’s on a high from the spirited energy in the room; it’s much less  
challenging to ignore any disconcertion from the latter’s gaze.

It’s the most pleasant surprise when Harry walks in amidst the impromptu festivities. Louis spots  
him from where he’s cleaning up the vacant booths and stops in his task to greet Harry. Harry  
looks warm and welcoming in his joggers, training shoes and bulky jacket; his hair is tied back in  
a bun but a few stubborn ringlets have broken free.

“Hey there kitten.” Harry’s lips curl into a trademark smirk when Louis rushes over to him,  
planting a quick peck on the boy’s mouth. “Thought I’d come bring you home.”  
“Playing a knight in shining armour is new territory, Styles. Tread lightly.” Louis takes Harry’s  
hand and guides him through the scattered tables to his station.

Harry ends up helping Louis finish with his closing up tasks just so he can take his boy away early  
maybe. He’s oblivious to Alex the entire time and well past the time when Louis takes them their  
check, accepting his tip from the ringleader himself.

“You gotta indulge, sugar.” Tony walks out of the kitchen when they close down the restaurant  
section and Louis sits at the bar with the reconciliation of his checks. He slides a plate of his  
newest invention to Louis and Gemma. The triple chocolate pancakes look far too tempting for a  
midnight snack.

Louis is not one to turn down food drenched in syrup and whipped cream. He takes a bite with  
one of the four plastic forks and lights up with the moan it elicits from him. “That’s really good,  
Tony.”

Tony winks at the boy and goes on to feed Jim just because it would make the latter male very  
uncomfortable. Gemma slaps her knee laughing when Jim sputters from the utensil scraping the  
back of his throat and Tony making a side-eyed shameless remark. If they weren’t so comfortable  
around each other, the situation might have been very much more chaotic and tense.  
Harry walks back in from whatever he handled outside, taking a seat next to Louis where he can  
clasp the boy’s thigh. Tony sees him enter and whistles without modesty, rendering both Louis  
and Gemma catatonic with laughter at Harry’s familiar reception of the treatment.  
“Hey there, thirteen.” Tony saunters off shortly after his greeting.  
Harry looks taken aback by the unexplained petname. “Thirteen?”  
Gemma hasn’t stopped her wild cackling but Louis cares enough to pause and smack his lips  
against Harry’s cheek. “You’re a thirteen out of ten.”

* * * * *

A change of scenery could only be exceptional in Louis’ opinion, so in the middle of his study  
session he packed up and went out to the garden without a word. Harry followed him out there  
just to make sure Louis wasn’t planning a bonfire for all his books, before disappearing indoors  
again. He got two bottles of water out of the fridge, got slapped with a dishtowel for messing up  
Gemma’s hair and went back outside.

In a moment of epic clarity, Louis sat back against the tree trunk and looked at Harry expectantly.  
“You wanna move in together?”

Harry spat his water out all over his shirt and the less unfortunate grass. He was dumbstruck by  
the outrageous suggestion for a moment before recovering. “That’s what you’re thinking about?”  
“Yeah.” Louis appeared to be offended but it barely lasted. “You got a problem with that, Styles?”  
“No. Of course not.” In all honesty, Harry was a little off-put because he wanted to be the one  
who asked first. “Didn’t think you’d bring it up, is all.”

Louis eyed him suspiciously before answering. “You’re so obvious, you know that? Fine, go  
ahead and ask me first.”

Harry didn’t have it in him to be truly affronted so he made his way over to Louis and pulled him  
onto his lap. He spoke in a heated whisper against Louis’ clavicle. “Kitten?”  
“Yes, Harry?” Louis blinked up innocently at him, really hamming it up. “Oh dear, this is serious.  
You look-”

“Shh, my little drama queen.” Harry cuts off Louis’ exaggeration by uniting their lips and keeping  
them there for a long moment, swiping his tongue over the seam of thin, pink cushions. “Why  
don’t you move in with me?”

Louis blew his fringe out of his eyes, pretending to think with frustrating intent. “Oh I don’t know.  
This is so unexpected.”  
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Harry is smiling so broadly that it must hurt his face and Louis gets up on  
his knees to make grabby hands at the man.

It’s not something that was not in their future at all as an inseparable pair of hearts. Louis could  
hide it all he wanted but he was thrilled and Harry didn’t even bother with masking it. He couldn’t  
wait to have Louis’ shoes discarded at random spots in their home and wake up every morning  
knowing his boy wouldn’t be returning to another roof later. Harry could remain excited for the  
rest of his existence because Louis granted him this privilege.

“Wait.” Louis sobers after he realises that they don’t in fact live in their own private bubble.  
“What about Gemma?”  
“I’ll be fine!” Harry’s sibling shouted from the patio where she’d come to a halt after overhearing  
them.

“She’ll be fine.” Harry reiterates, smoothing the back of Louis’ shirt when the boy gets  
comfortable on his lap again. “Gems can keep your shared apartment if she wants and you’ll move  
in here with me.”

Louis would have wanted to start fresh in their own flat but finances were putting them in a bind.  
Renting a new place will be taxing on their incomes while this house is already paid off by  
Harry’s parents. “Why can’t she move in here too?”  
“Because you two are gross and I love that apartment!” Comes the female third voice from inside  
the house again.

“Quit eavesdropping!” Louis screamed back at her, turning red in the face from the physical  
exertion coupled with his earlier ecstasy. “I think I love that idea, Styles. Let’s do it.”

**Author's Note:**

> the end of one part of a two part series by SS98


End file.
